"The real Orpheus that the world doesn't know about."
And—
"A great power that cannot be handled with mediocre talent."
Despite Ramute's heartfelt confession, my mind wasn't occupied with sympathy or pity for the time he had spent waiting. Instead, I found myself thinking about the possible rewards that might soon fall into my hands.
Of course, I was well aware that my selfish attitude didn't align with Claudius' noble belief in saving people.
...But I can't help it. My future won't be peaceful, and I have to prepare for the coming chaos.
I steadied my breathing, organizing the tangled thoughts in my mind.
Then, hoping that my gaze resembled that of "a descendant of Orpheus uncovering his family's secret" rather than "a former assassin thirsty for power," I asked,
"So, you're saying that you are in possession of the legacy our ancestor left behind to prepare for the future?"
— It's true that Orpheus left behind a legacy. But I don't have it myself. I only know where it's hidden. Hmm… Belzekiel, should I tell Fagan about this now?
— Tch. Just say it. We've come this far, no point in holding back now.
The small fluffy creature beside me wagged its tail, jingling as it moved.
As the soft rustling settled, Ramute continued.
— After our first encounter with Orpheus, Belzekiel and I spent most of our time with him. We thought that as long as Orpheus remained in this world, our connection would never be broken. But then, ten years after we finished our work in Espetara, he suddenly made an unexpected declaration.
[Uh… Sorry, my friends. I need to go on a little journey alone. So… while I'm away, could you two look after this island for me?]
— And just like that, he left. Hah! Who would have thought that his 'little trip' would turn into a ten-year-long absence?
"A journey?"
The longer the conversation went on, the more questions filled my head.
If it had been ten years after Espetara was established as Claudius' land, then Orpheus would have already been in his old age.
And yet, at that stage in life, he suddenly left his lifelong companions behind and embarked on a decade-long journey?
— Exactly ten years after he left Espetara, Orpheus returned, dressed in the same clothes as when he departed. And with a carefree laugh, he told us: "I left my unfulfilled dreams at the promised place. When the time comes, guide Claudius' child there."
"The promised place…"
— Time passed, and Orpheus left this world forever. Since then, we've been waiting—waiting for a child of Claudius who could live up to his expectations.
"Could you tell me more about what our ancestor meant by 'unfulfilled dreams'?"
— We only know where the promised place is. We don't know exactly what those dreams were. If we did, we'd tell you right away. Sorry.
— That guy, Orpheus… Despite always laughing things off, he was surprisingly tight-lipped about this.
"You've carried this promise for so long. Weren't you ever curious about what it meant?"
— Of course, we were curious. But we never felt the need to press Orpheus for answers.
— He once told us: "I guarantee that discovering it firsthand with the chosen child will be far more fun than just hearing it from me. So let's leave it as a surprise for the future, shall we?" Hah, even as an old man, he couldn't help but joke around.
— But knowing Orpheus, we believe he kept silent for our sake and for the safety of the family.
— Perhaps he thought it would be too dangerous to approach the truth without first securing the legacy he left behind.
"Hmm… I see."
I crossed my arms, carefully piecing together the clues.
From what I had gathered, Orpheus had likely buried his "dreams and legacy" in the same location.
And by securing the legacy, I would eventually come to understand his dream.
"If you approach the dream without securing the legacy, it's too dangerous!"
In other words, if I did obtain the legacy, I would have the power to withstand the dangers ahead.
Which meant… the greater the risk, the greater the strength I could gain.
As someone already strategizing how to overcome the impending calamity, I couldn't help but feel intrigued.
"So, what exactly must I do to prove myself as Orpheus' successor?"
— …How did you know there would be a test? Belzekiel, did you tell him?
— Nope. Didn't say a word.
"I just deduced it. If I could inherit our ancestor's will without any proof, you wouldn't have bothered explaining all this to me. Instead, you would have taken immediate action. But the fact that you've called me here and told me all this history means that I still have something to prove."
— Hmm, sharp one. Looks like I was right about you. Alright, before we get into it, let me say one last thing. You've probably already noticed, but Belzekiel and I have different roles.
Ramute's voice remained sweet like flower petals, but this time, I sensed an unshakable firmness behind it.
— Belzekiel's role is growth. He helps the Claudius children develop and ensures that their Angelus matures properly.
"That explains why Fluffball knows so much about the principles of Angelus. And I assume I'm not the only Claudius who has benefited from his help?"
— That's right. Meanwhile, my role is judgment. I have the duty of determining whether a child has the potential to meet Orpheus' expectations. I have observed every Claudius descendant born into this world.
Her voice resonated with growing intensity.
And as if reacting to Ramute's excitement, the tail near my eyebrows wagged even faster.
— And one week ago, I made my decision. Fagan, I believe you are the one who will live up to Orpheus' hopes.
"I am honored that you think so highly of me, despite my current shortcomings."
— …Huh? That's it? That's your reaction?
"Sorry? Was I supposed to react differently?"
— Well, aren't you at least curious why I chose you? You could be a little more surprised.
"I was quite surprised. But I've already had too many shocking revelations tonight, so I guess it doesn't show."
— Oh… I see.
— Heh, see, Ramute? Didn't I tell you? He's a fun kid. You'll have to get used to him.
— Ahem! Anyway, let's get to the test.
A deep rumbling echoed from behind the rocky island.
The ground trembled, and through the shifting stones, I could sense the faint flow of mana.
— Fagan, I'm going to take you to a very old place. There, you will find a girl suffering from a terrible illness. Your task is to heal her.
A trial finally revealed itself.
Healing a patient seemed fitting for a Claudius, but something about it bothered me.
"Forgive my rudeness, but if a patient needs treatment, wouldn't it be wiser to ask my father? His healing skills far surpass my own."
— That won't work. Tiberi is an excellent patriarch and healer, but this is beyond him.
Ramute's voice was soft yet unwavering.
— I understand your concern, but for this task, you don't need to worry about lacking skill. The method to cure her already exists.
"Then shouldn't my father be the one to apply it? Healing requires experience, and I pale in comparison to him."
— No. This must be done by you.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, like mist settling in the air.
— She is the saint of the Tide Tribe—their most precious treasure. But… she is dying.